Worst Nightmare
by Mysteriamoon
Summary: One-shot fic for Tim Burton's Alice. Tarrant blames himself for what happened to his clan years ago. Memories of the Jabberwocky and the Hightopp clan haunt him, even in his dreams.


**Disclaimer: Hi, I'm Mysteriamoon. I like writing, Irish dance, and fantasy stories. I dislike lawyers. I do not claim to own rights to these characters, so please don't sue me. **

**A/N: This is based on Tim Burton's **_**Alice in Wonderland**_**. I have not seen this movie since I am publishing this fanfiction about three weeks before the movie is supposed to be released. I do not guarantee that my facts all correct. I wrote this using the DK visual guide to **_**Alice in Wonderland**_**, so at least the names and circumstances should be sort of accurate. Still, this entire fic may completely miss the ballpark. But whatever. Enjoy anyway. **

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**Worst Nightmare**

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Tarrant knew they shouldn't be there. What sense of logic he had said this had to be a trick in his head, but there they were. In the gloom of the dungeon stood several of his friends and family, what little light there was casting dark shadows on their faces.

They stood just outside the bars, watching Tarrant, though he couldn't see their expressions. He could feel their gaze upon him from his position on the stone floor. He glanced around to see if Mallymkun saw them, too. Where was she? The dormouse was nowhere to be seen. Her cage was empty. Maybe she escaped? Or maybe the queen had taken her to be executed while Tarrant had been asleep earlier? The thought was too horrible to bear.

"Tarrant."

The voice drew his attention back to the people on the other side of the cell bars. It sounded like his Uncle Craddock. But that was impossible.

"You're not really there," Tarrant said, his voice shaking. "I-I saw you die."

"Maybe so," the Uncle Craddock voice said, "but that doesn't mean we can't be here."

"It-it's a dream."

A high, shrill laugh made Tarrant flinch. That laugh… It was his older sister, Aidana. There was no doubt about it. "Interesting, you really seem like you understand it. You always were a fool, Tarrant."

Now Tarrant was sure this was a dream. He and his sister had always gotten along well. She had never called him names. This couldn't be his sister. But, if that was so, why did that voice sound so much like her? As he tried to force this thought through his head, he saw from the corner of his eye a young woman push her way though the crowd. She stepped through the bars. Literally. Tarrant watched as her body passed through the iron as if it were made of air.

She stopped there, her face just outside the trail of sunlight from the window. What Tarrant could see certainly looked like Aidana. She wore the same rose-colored dress she had been wearing on the Horunvendush Day. The light shone through the fabric of her bonnet, silhouetting her face. That looked the same. Her long red curls lay just as they always had. She even smelled just like he remembered, like her favorite rose perfume. Still, these similarities were all countered by the obvious fact that his sister was long dead.

Tarrant turned away. "You're not real. I'm insane. Everyone says it. You're my imagination." He heard the words and Aidana heard them just as well, but Tarrants voice quavered as if he didn't believe them. He was sure Aidana didn't, because she came forward and took his left hand in hers. Her hand was solid, but very cold. She pulled off his glove, placed her other hand on the back of Tarrant's and pressed her nails into his flesh.

The pain that followed should have been expected. A sharp sensation, almost like static, ran up his arm. Tarrant tried to pull away, but Aidana held fast. When she released him, Tarrant saw the bright red marks on his hand. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket up to stop the blood.

"You see? I'm real as you are."

"Yes," Tarrant managed weakly. It _had to be_ his sister. Whatever was left of her anyway. "Why are you here, then?"

Aidana looked away. "You ran, Tarrant." Her voice was low and angry. "You left me and the others to die."

At the word "die," Tarrant drew in a sharp breath. "No! I-I mean I did run, but I had to get the queen out of there. I tried to find you. I looked for Mother, Father, Rhys, Brinn, Caitrin…" He trailed off, realizing that saying their names didn't mean anything. "I tried, but there was so much smoke and I had to save the Queen and everyone was screaming and–"

"The Queen?" Aidana snorted. "What about family? You were a coward. You ran and left us to die. You could have died a hero, alongside your family, but no. You had to play the coward." Aidana turned her back to Tarrant and faced the bars.

A single whispered word rose up from the mouths of the group in the corridor outside. _"Coward," _they said in eerie unison. The sound rang through Tarrant's head and he tried desperately to get his next words out.

"I didn't mean–"

His sister spun back around. She walked slowly towards him with her head down, forcing Tarrant to back up or else be stepped on. He pressed himself against the opposite wall. "You could have tried to follow. I know you. You could have if you wanted to!"

There was an edge to Aidana's voice, not anger, something else. Possibly a hint of a smile? For a moment, there was complete silence in the dungeon. Tarrant looked hard at the floor, knowing what she would say next. He didn't want to hear it.

Aidana laughed. This time it wasn't the sort of laugh Tarrant remembered. This was a hard, chilling, almost evil laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. That laugh didn't belong to his sister at all.

"You did try, didn't you? You tried to poison yourself." When Tarrant didn't answer, she went on. "It was rather stupid of you, you know. You should have tried something else besides mercury. It's funny actually. It didn't kill you, it just turned you…" Aidana trailed off, and through the shadows Tarrant saw the wicked smile all too clearly. She crouched down and leaned towards him, her face inches from his ear.

"…Mad."

The word made every muscle in Tarrant's body tighten. He clenched his fists and tried to hold back the tears of anger. There was something else, too – the cold, metallic taste of fear. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

"You're a traitor, Tarrant. A traitor and a failure." She pulled back and smiled again, this smile even more malicious than the last one. "I know what you fear. You fear judgment, _our_ judgment. What would the souls of the damned and departed think of your cowardice?" She let those words sink in and then said "I'll tell you."

Aidana pulled back her bonnet to look at her brother. She fixed him with her eyes, and what Tarrant saw made his heart stop. Aidana's eyes weren't their usual green. Instead, it was as if her eyes had been replaced by cold, black marbles.

The rest of the company stepped forward through the bars and into the sunlight. Every single one of them had glittering black eyes just like Aidana's. There was his mother, his brothers and sisters, a few uncles… They stood behind Aidana, all of their eyes fixed on Tarrant.

Aidana was the only one who spoke. "You left us for dead, so we think you should be punished as a traitor. Fear us. Fear our judgment. Welcome to your worst nightmare, Tarrant."

___

He awoke, breathing hard, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Tarrant! Tarrant, are you alright? Wake up!" Mallymkun jumped up and down in her cage, grabbing at the bars in a desperate attempt to get her friend's attention.

Tarrant pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I'm fine," he said in a frantic voice that suggested otherwise. He inhaled deeply in an effort to calm his nerves. _Think. Think good, normal, not-insane, happy thoughts. Think of McTwisp and Thackery and tea. Yes, tea. Good… Calming… Tea. _

After Tarrant's breathing had returned to within the range of normal, Mallymkun asked "Bad dream?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." Mallymkun knew all too well what he had been dreaming about. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask the–"

"Don't say its name!"

"–er, you didn't ask for the thing to, ah, you know."

Tarrant sighed. "I know. It was only a dream." He folded his hands in his lap. A stinging sensation on the back of his left hand made him look down, and he frowned at the wet stains on his glove. _No._ He yanked off his glove.

Sure enough, the cuts bled fresh as if they had been made by phantom fingernails.

"_Traitor…"_ The word rang in his head, burned into his memory.

-

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**Hmm… We'll see how much I got right fact-wise when the movie comes out. Thanks for reading. :) Please drop a review to show your appreciation (or lack thereof) for this story. **


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